The Adventures of Going to the ER

So last night after dinner, Steve finally decided his ankle was not getting any better (more like getting worse and the other ankle was getting bad as well) and off to the ER we went. I was prepared for a loooong night at the ER. Where we used to live, a standard waiting time at the ER if you were lucky was at least twelve hours. Twenty-four if you were not. Suffice to say, I was amazed and impressed with the efficiency of the ER in our new town (it is not big enough to say city). Three hours later and we were back home! YAY! At least this ER had comfortable chairs…when we were not up and about running after Ashlynn.

Yesterday, while at home, she was an unholy terror. I am not sure if it is because she is teething or what. But fuck. Little monster on two feet let me tell you! The minute we got to the ER, completely whole different personality! Bubbly, happy, and out-going. Wait a minute. Out-going? Wanting to make friends? What happened to my little girl that goes all freak-out, melt-down stranger danger in the stores and out on the street? Or is it because the nurses were willing to cater to your every whim and desire? Including the wonderful nurse who got you juice and cookies. Little sneaky bugger. I knew kids were sneaky! Now I have proof!

So after blood work, two x-rays, urine sample and being poked and prodded we will know the results in about 8 days for one of the blood tests. The other blood test came back negative for uric acid, so that means no gout. YAY! Bad news is though he might have rheumatoid arthritis or some other inflammatory disease. Well this will make life more interesting. Best thing we can do is keep a positive outlook and make the best of things. Sometime this week he will get to go see a specialist and there he will probably get poked and prodded some more. Now he knows how I felt when I was pregnant. At least he has it lucky when having to give a urine sample; just aim for the cup and go. Unlike us women, especially when pregnant, I used to joke around that I should become a carnival side-show act because of it. Step right up! Come and see the Pregnant Contortionist!

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